From Cast-Off to Climbing Legend Chapter 2

I replied with a simple "OK" and instantly wired the $7,200 I had collected earlier that day straight back into his account.

Over in the group chat, the whining hadn't stopped.

"So she refunded this batch, but what about the past three years? We've placed at least eight orders with her."

"Squeezing a thousand bucks out of each of us, every single time. Six people on the roster... that's six grand a season!"

"Wow. We basically bankrolled her entire storefront, didn't we?"

I quietly closed the app, not bothering to defend myself.

There was no point. Even if I laid out the financial documents proving my actual production costs were closer to ten thousand dollars per set, they wouldn't believe a word of it. They would just accuse me of forging invoices.

I pulled up the spreadsheet containing everyone's highly specific biomechanical data and picked up my phone, dialing the factory floor.

"Josh, scrap those six custom orders. Shut down the specialized line."

Josh, my lead materials engineer, practically cheered through the receiver.

"Finally! Thank God you woke up, Boss!"

"Running a dedicated custom line for them was bad enough, but charging them pennies? It didn't even cover the electricity bill for the carbon-fiber molds!"

"You could give some people the shirt off your back, and they'd still complain about the fabric. Good riddance!"

I hung up the phone, a bitter, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

When I first joined this team a year ago, they had stared at my gear like starving wolves looking at fresh meat.

"Sarah, the rubber compound on those soles is insane! The grip looks unreal."

"How is your static rope so much lighter than mine, but rated for a higher load?"

Greg had looked down at his own worn-out harness, sighing in defeat. "My rig cost me three grand, and I'm still paying it off. Yours has to be pushing fifteen thousand, right?"

Back then, I had been genuinely moved by their raw passion for the sport. They were broke, struggling athletes, but they had heart.

So, I made an offer. I told them I could get them the exact same tier of equipment I used, for only twelve hundred dollars. I lied and said I ran a small retail shop and could get wholesale prices.

The truth was, I was the founder and CEO of Apex Dynamics, the premier climbing equipment manufacturer in the country.

The very first competition they climbed in my gear, we took first place. Before that, they had never even cracked the podium.

From that day on, the sponsorships started rolling in. We were getting paid to do what we loved.

To give them an extra edge, I started requiring their precise body measurements, engineering bespoke equipment tailored to their individual weight distribution and reach.

Custom manufacturing cannot be automated. Josh had to personally oversee the calibration of every single piece. The absolute bare-minimum factory cost for one of those kits was twelve thousand dollars.

When Josh told me I was insane for eating the cost, I brushed it off. I told him they were my friends.

The irony tasted like ash in my mouth.

Greg's name flashed on my screen again.

"Hey, make sure you send all our measurement data over to Haley so she can place the order. Don't drag your feet on this!"

"OK."

I exported the file and sent the document straight to Haley.

A minute later, she replied.

"Wow, Sarah. You really commit to the bit, don't you?"

"Climbing gear comes in standard sizes. S, M, L. What the hell do you need wingspan and arch depth for?"

"Adding all these fake, flashy metrics just to justify your ridiculous markup. You're a total scam artist."